Page 10 of Nathan

After a few seconds, Bernard’s shoulders actually sag in defeat, and he dips his chin. “Deal,” he says through a clenched jaw.

Jesus, Nate O’Reilly is something else. Bernard is feared and revered in this town, yet Nate stood his ground and won, and for the second time today.

My boss turns to me with a glare cold enough to give me frostbite. “You start at eight in the morning. Your first job is to fire the stupid blonde temp and sort out the fucking mess she’s made of my calendar.”

“Yes, Bernard,” I say, purposely keeping my voice measured, as well as adding a hint of obedience. The latter only because it will soothe Bernard’s shattered ego and make my life a touch easier.

Nate opens the door. “Nice doing business with you. Say hi to Marjorie for me.” He steps through and then hesitates. “Behave, Bernard. Dex has my number. If I hear you’re bullying or mistreating her in any way, the deal is off.”

With that, he takes hold of my hand—my hand—and we leave.

Once inside the car, I draw air through my nose before letting it out slowly. My hands won’t stop shaking. As Nate drives through the gates and back onto the road, I tuck them beneath my thighs and turn to him.

“Thank you.”

His lips form a brief smile that doesn’t last. “You’re welcome.”

“You renegotiated his fee?”

Nate nods. “He’s been fleecing me for too long. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to gain some leverage on Bernard, and you, my dear Dex, provided me with not one but two opportunities. It’s me who should be thanking you.”

I laugh. “Poor Bernard.”

Nate snorts. “Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’ll hardly be searching in dumpsters for food…unless Marjorie finds out about his partiality for starlets with big tits.”

He waggles his eyebrows, and I laugh again.

After giving him directions to my apartment, I use the next thirty minutes to take a mental picture of everything about Nate: the cut of his shirt clinging to his muscular chest, the way his biceps bunch every time he raises his arms, the angle of his strong jaw, those sexy hands that grip the steering wheel, how he smells. Especially how he smells. Yep, I lock away every single thing in a file in my mind. When I’m alone, I’ll open it and let my imagination run wild.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say when he pulls up outside my apartment; my hand on the door handle.

“Wait.” Nate takes out his wallet, and for a horrible moment, I think he’s going to offer me money, like an escort or a call girl. Instead, he produces a business card. “If Bernard gives you any trouble, if he even looks at you the wrong way or says one sharp word, you call me.”

With trembling fingers, I accept the card. Oh, this night gets better and better. Nate O’Reilly has voluntarily given me his contact details. I tuck the card in my pocket, vowing to get it laminated the following day in case I tear it by mistake.

“I will, although after what you did back there, I think he’ll curb his attitude for a while yet.”

Nate grins. “Maybe, but remember, animals are at their most dangerous when injured. I fully expect Bernard to come out fighting at some point.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Nah.”

My eyes flicker over his face for signs he’s lying, but his expression is smooth and worry free.

“Well, thanks again.” I hesitate for the briefest of moments, restless with the urge to climb onto Nate’s lap and put my mouth on his. To rub myself on his crotch as his heavy, thick erection rocks against my center.

“Do you need a hand?”

I twist my head. “With what?” I ask, wondering if he can read minds.

Nate juts his chin toward the door.

Oh. Dumbass. Heat floods my face, and I drag my mind back to the present, away from Nate’s erection potential.

“No, I can manage.” I hide my blush, climb out, and shut the door. From the safety of the sidewalk, I wave as Nate drives away. He raises his hand inside the car and waves back.

For a few seconds, I stare at the business card he gave me, then hug myself and go inside.

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